


Call It What You Want

by Tripped



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 05:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11616792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tripped/pseuds/Tripped
Summary: His chances of success are slim, since Nursey’s interested in someone else. But if he puts his faith in the moments between them – the shared glances, the playful banter, the gentle teasing, their chemistry, on ice, and off – maybe, just maybe, he can make it work. It could be the best decision of his life. It could be the most humiliating.





	Call It What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fic I posted to my [tumblr](day-tripped.tumblr.com) for nurseydex week. Each part references one of the 7 themes for nurseydex week:  
> 1\. Mutual Pining, 2. Room Sharing, 3. Alternate Universe, 4. Gender/Sexuality Headcanons, 5. Hurt/Comfort, 6. Soft, 7. Future Nurseydex.

  1. Frog Friday



When Nursey arrives, in what Dex can only describe as him _drifting_ into their shared room, he can tell there’s something different about him. Even from his current position, eyes glued to his computer monitor, with Chowder set up with his own laptop beside him, and the persistent racket of keys being madly pressed, mice being clicked, and the occasional swear, Dex can tell that something’s up with Derek.

“Who’s winning?” Nursey asks, draping his arm around Dex’s tightly hunched shoulder.

Yep. Something was definitely up. The fact that Nursey hadn’t even chirped them for playing the game in the first place was a big sign.

“Not us,” Chowder replies, sticking his tongue out in concentration. “Though _someone_ sounds chipper today,” he mentions, letting his eyes meet Nursey’s for a second before turning back to the game.

From the corner of his eye, Dex spots Nursey paw at his neck, grinning. “I dunno,” he chuckles, “just feeling good today, that’s all.”

“Really?” Chowder inquires. “And this has nothing to do with a particular someone that you may or may not have had coffee with this morning?”

“Ah, fuck, shit—” Dex mutters, watching helplessly as his character dies on screen. He groans, falling back into his chair, and glances at Nursey. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” he says, casually.

Nursey laughs, ruffling Dex’s hair. “I’m not,” he insists, “Aiden’s just a friend.”

Dex raises an eyebrow.

“A nice, funny, good-looking friend...” Nursey rambles, flopping onto his bottom-bunk bed. “He’s a musician too,” Nursey sighs. “Plays the guitar.” For no reason in particular, Dex feels the sudden urge to mention that _he_ plays the guitar as well, before he remembers that he hasn’t even touched his guitar in months.

Suddenly, the word ‘Defeat’ floods both his and Chowder’s screens. “Dammit,” Dex grits, closing the game and moving to shut down his computer.

“Finally,” Nursey heaves, launching upright, “I thought today was _Frog Friday_ , not _Nerd Night_.”

Chowder scoffs. “Because playing a video game is strictly for _nerds_ now,” he chides. “Sorry, remind me again, who is it that owns the box set collector’s edition of not one, but _three_ separate fantasy franchises?” he teases, pointedly eyeing Derek’s bookshelf.

“I’ll have you know, Harry Potter is a very respectable and mainstream obsession,” Derek huffs. “ _Aiden_ likes Harry Potter.”

“My God, you’ve only mentioned him twice and it’s already getting annoying,” Dex mumbles.

“Just ask him out already,” Chowder says. “I told you, he likes you.”

“Wait,” Dex interrupts, “you met this _Aiden_ guy? How come I’ve never heard of him before?” Something settles uncomfortably in his stomach.

“Because Nursey’s _embarrassed_ of us,” Chowder jokes, grinning. “He’s trying to fit in with the cool kids.”

“Alright,” Nursey groans, snatching his coat from a pile of clothes stacked on a chair by his bed. “Are you gonna keep chirping me, or are you gonna get ready so we can actually _do_ Frog Friday?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chowder replies, packing up his laptop and shoving it into his bag. As Chowder and Nursey push out the door, Dex pauses, one hand gripped on the back of his chair, casting his gaze towards his untouched guitar case, laying gently by Derek’s bookshelf. A thin layer of dust lines its surface, and Dex reaches out to brush it off with his hand.

“Dex?” Chowder calls from the porch. “You coming?”

“Yeah—” Dex croaks out, giving his guitar a final pat before making his way downstairs.

“Wait, so do you really think Aiden likes me?” Dex hears Nursey ask from out on the porch.

“Oh my fuck—” Dex starts, heading out to join them.

 

* * *

 

  1. Hot Haus



It’s not a scorching heat but an uncomfortable one, like he’s sitting just a little too close to a fireplace, or pressed up against an oven. Dex sprawls out against his sheets, dressed only in an undershirt and briefs, trying to will himself to sleep. _Heat rises_ , he thinks, bitterly, _and I’m on the top bunk_. He groans, lifting his wrist to swipe the sweat from his forehead.

“Dude, what are you like, jacking off up there?” Nursey teases, his sleepy voice carrying from the bunk below.

“No, fuck off,” he grumbles. “’s hot.”

Nursey scoffs, and the attic falls back into silence. Dex feels a line of sweat start to prick at his neck, and he flips over his pillow to stave off the heat. He’s not going to be able to sleep for a while, he knows, so he resigns himself to his thoughts. Thoughts like how to improve the insulation in the Haus. Or how to convince Nursey to swap bunks with him. Or just Nursey, in general.

He doesn’t know how to think about Nursey. He’s spent so long denying the things that he likes, like baking, or nerdy shit, or—y’know... guys, that he’s long been able to tell the difference between the things he doesn’t like and the things he’s only pretending not to like. And he acts like he doesn’t like Nursey. A lot. It’s become his default. A familiar ground to fall back on when he doesn’t have anything else to say, or any other way to _be_.

He doesn’t know how to think about Nursey. So maybe it’s time he lay some emotional groundwork.

Line one. Nursey frustrates him. Consistently. It’s a combination of a few things - his attitude, for starters. The kind of manufactured ‘cool’ that keeps him infuriatingly smug, how he acts as if Dex is overreacting to everything, as if _Nursey’s_ the bigger man for keeping himself calm and collected.

And it’s the little stuff, too, that frustrates Dex. Nursey’s clumsiness; how he trips and injures everyone around him, pacifying the unfortunate victims with empty, ‘ _oh, dude, sorry,’_ apologies that only work because he’s fucking _attractive_. How he pulls the toothpaste from the top of the tube, and not the bottom, ruining Dex’s perfect system. How he sings in the shower, not Bitty-loud, but certainly loud enough to wake him in the morning. Not that his singing’s _that_ bad, or anything, it’s just like, annoying, even if Dex doesn’t _really_ mind hearing him first thing in the morning— _whatever._

And then there’s his snoring. The kind of snoring which Dex can only compare to the racket of a boat engine. Although, he must admit, he’s kind of gotten used to it. It’s as if the time they’ve spent sleeping near each other in hotel rooms or on buses has trained Dex to be able to live around him. In fact, he could probably still fall asleep even if they were in the same... bed...

Suddenly, his pillow’s a bit too warm. He flips it over, and sighs into its cooled surface.

Line two. Nursey makes him feel dumb. It’s not that he flaunts his intelligence or anything. And Dex _knows_ that’s he’s a smart guy himself. But somehow, Nursey just makes him feel like he doesn’t know anything at all. Nursey wins all their arguments, at Annie’s. Not because he’s _always_ right, but because Dex can never find the right words to get his point across. So as they trawl through that week’s headlines, sipping hot coffee from their cups, Dex already knows he’s lost. Even when he’s right, he’s wrong.

But it’s not just that. It’s like as if Nursey brings out the whiny child in him. Some primal, juvenile instinct that kicks in when he’s in Nursey’s presence. Something that brings him seconds away from sticking out his tongue, or calling him names, or tugging at his... hair...

He flips his pillow.

Line three. Nursey makes him feel... pathetic. Because for all that Dex is, he can’t help but compare himself with Nursey.

Nursey, who not only has the hockey team, but a whole pack of artsy, older, cooler, ridiculously attractive friends. Like Aiden. Dex, who has the hockey team and... well... that’s it. Just him, the hockey team, and maybe that one guy he sits next to in his programming class.

Nursey, who could charm the pants off of the entire population of Samwell. Dex, who has to psych himself up to talk to the cashiers at the Stop ‘n’ Shop.

Nursey, who’s infatuated with Aiden, who, unless he’s a complete idiot, is probably infatuated with Nursey right back. Dex, who can’t stop thinking about a guy who won’t even spare him a single thought. Wait. That’s... does that mean...

He likes Nursey?

Flip.

Line four. Nursey makes him feel warm. He’s hesitant to call it a crush, but, that’s exactly what it is. He can’t deny it any longer, Dex supposes. It’s his own damn fault. He could only have spent so long around an attractive, funny, perfect guy before _something_ happened. But if there’s anything Dex has learned from his father, it’s that if there’s something you want, you work for it. And right now, Dex wants Derek Nurse.

He swallows. His chances of success are slim, since Nursey’s interested in someone else. But if he puts his faith in the moments between them – the shared glances, the playful banter, the gentle teasing, their chemistry, on ice, and off – maybe, just maybe, he can make it work. It could be the best decision of his life. It could be the most humiliating.

Dex groans, kicking at his sheets, bunched by his feet. He’d think about it tomorrow. Or some other day. Any other day. Just not now.

Drifting from his thoughts, Dex feels the uncomfortable warmth of his bed fade away. Sighing contently, he flips his pillow one last time, basking in its now-cooled surface, as little by little, he gently falls asleep—

“Are you _sure_ you’re not jacking off up there?”

Dex’s face burns.

 

* * *

 

  1. Movie Magic



_It’ll be fine_ , Dex thinks, standing stiffly on the porch of the Haus, a week after he’d came to the embarrassing realisation that he liked Nursey. _Everything’s fine._ He clutches the flannel on his right arm, and feels the fabric crease under his fingers.

“Yo,” Nursey calls, strutting up to the porch, his backpack hanging casually off one arm. He takes in Dex’s rigid figure. “Are you... okay?”

Dex blinks as Nursey comes into vision. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, relaxing his posture a bit. He holds his gaze to the side of Nursey’s face, unable to look him in the eye. “Chowder can’t make it to Frog Friday tonight ‘cos now’s the only time he and Farmer are free so they’re on a li’l date thing,” Dex says. “So I thought we could catch a movie while he’s gone.” He shrugs. _And maybe we can have a li’l date thing too._

“Uh—okay,” Nursey says, confounded.

“Sweet,” Dex says. “It’s the new zombie one that’s out, thought we could watch it at the cinema... It starts in fifteen minutes, so—”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Nursey replies. “I’ll just get ready then...” Nursey pushes past him into the Haus, and Dex is left standing on the porch. He bunches his hands into his pockets and breathes deeply. Step 1 complete – ask Nurse on a date. Except, well... Nursey didn’t really _know_ it was a date, but—semantics. _Baby steps_ , he tells himself. _Maybe next time you’ll actually be upfront about it instead of ambushing him while he comes back from class and pretending like it’s just a typical hang-sesh._

Only a few moments later, Nursey emerges from the Haus, his hair smoothed a little nicer, his backpack abandoned. “This was a good idea, dude,” Nursey says, patting Dex on the shoulder as they make their way down to the road together. “C won’t feel left out if it’s a zombie movie.”

“Yep,” Dex mumbles. “That was the plan.”

\--

“Like I said,” Nursey starts, as they walk together back from the cinema, “it’s you, Ransom, Holster and Lards.”

Dex narrows his eyes at him sceptically. “Lards?”

Nursey nods enthusiastically. “Have you seen her beer pong arm? Now imagine that with like, javelins and shit, and you’ve got yourself a sharpshooter for the zombie apocalypse.”

“And let me guess, you picked me because I’ve handled a gun before?” Dex inquires.

“Chyeah. Plus you’ve got the whole ‘living in the woods’ thing going already,” Nursey adds, a broad grin stretched across his face. Dex knocks his shoulder hard against Nursey’s.

“Ransom because of his medical knowledge?” Dex continues. “And Holster because... because he seems like the type of guy to watch a lot of zombie apocalypse movies?” he tries. “Or maybe because he’s a giant?”

“Nah, man. It’s ‘cos Ransom would fall apart without Holster, duh.” Nursey flicks Dex’s temple, and Dex winces in annoyance. “You gotta think about the chemistry within the team, too.”

“Yeah, well, in that case Lardo might fall apart without Shitty—”

Nursey tilts his head, considering. “Maybe. Although Shitty’s probably the last on my list in terms of usefulness anyway, so—”

Dex cackles. “Same. But... I dunno, I kinda like the idea of it being me, you, Chowder and Farmer.”

Nursey presses his hand to his chest. “Aw, Dex,” he grins, teasingly, “I am flattered that you would consider me.” Dex’s cheeks tinge a light pink.

“Don’t get any ideas, Nurse. You’re just on the team ‘cos Chowder would get sad, and we need his lightning fast reflexes,” Dex clarifies. “And you’re also the slowest runner, so if we’re being chased I can just—” He mimes shoving Nursey onto the road.

“Wow,” Nursey scoffs. “Savage. And don’t downplay my abilities, William. I have survival skills.”

Dex raises an eyebrow.

“I can... uh... seduce? The zombies?” Nursey tries for his most smouldering expression.

Dex doesn’t react.

“Alright, alright,” Nursey concedes. “I’d be useless in a zombie apocalypse. You can throw me to the zombies as bait and then you can live forever as a third wheel to Chowder and Farmer.”

Dex shrugs. “Nah, I think I’ll keep you around,” he says, nudging Derek on the bicep. They walk back together like this in silence, their arms just touching, the sky dark and empty above them, and the road in front illuminated only by distant streetlights that stretch behind a line of trees and towards the Haus. There’s silence, except for the click of their footsteps along the path, and the faint hum of insects from afar.

“Aiden would be good in a zombie apocalypse,” Nursey states, suddenly, breaking the silence. Dex feels the flutter in his stomach fade.

“He’d be a zombie,” Dex deadpans, eyes downcast. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and looks away.

Nursey laughs. “You haven’t even met him, dude. You don’t know what he’s like.” And Nursey’s right. He doesn’t. Not really. Dex only knows what Chowder and Nursey have told him – that he’s a handsome dude who plays guitar and is apparently as smooth and cool as Dex isn’t.

“Whatever,” Dex mumbles. He smooths his hair behind his ear, and tries to hold onto his fleeting hope as it crumbles beneath his grasp.

 

* * *

 

  1. Cooking Competition



As he wakes, his eyes still half-lidded, vision blurry, caught in between his dream and reality, he hears a soft, crooning lullaby float from the other room. It’s Nursey’s voice, one that he recognises from all the other mornings that Nursey’s woken up before Dex has – it’s faint, a little raspy, out of tune in places, but somehow still captivating. Dex sits up, rubs his eyes, and just listens.

 

> _I don’t know how to love,_
> 
> _Cast my heart out to sea,_
> 
> _But there’s nobody manning the sails, will you_
> 
> _Please, will you please, will you steer the ship for me._
> 
> _Call it whatever you want,_
> 
> _My song, my verse, my story, all of,_
> 
> _Teach me what is it to be in love,_
> 
> _Call it whatever you want._

 

His fingers itch for his guitar, as the melody sinks into his ears. Instead, he picks up his phone, and types the lyrics into Google, hoping to put the song onto his playlist, but it doesn’t seem to exist. Could... could Derek have written it himself?

Dex hears the water shut off. Shrugging out of his sheets, he gets his clothes ready for his morning shower. Yet he can’t seem to shake Derek’s song; the gentle melody, and the guitar chords that would fit so perfectly beneath it. He carries the tune with him for the entire day.

\--

“A baking competition?” Derek questions, a few days later, as he and Dex stand in an otherwise empty Haus.

“What, you think your pies are better than mine?” Dex challenges, a smirk lining his face. It’s easy, their rivalry. After all, this is what they _do_ – it’s just a constant competition between the two of them, a never-ending dare.

Nursey scoffs. “You wish, Poindexter.” And then they’re off, trawling through the kitchen, collecting bowls and trays, flour and sugar, bickering all the while.

Dex watches amusedly as Nursey looks between the measuring cups and his mixing bowl, then abandons the measuring cups and dumps what is probably too much flour straight from the packet into the bowl. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Dex asks as he carefully measures the correct amount of flour in his own measuring cup.

“Chyeah dude, baking’s not an exact science. You gotta _feel_ it,” Nursey replies, pouring too little sugar into his bowl.

“No, I’m pretty sure baking _is_ an exact science,” Dex states, but it’s too late; Nursey’s dough is already an amalgamation of dry and wet ingredients, far too sticky to make a good crust.

“You know,” Nursey starts, a bit later, as he kneads his sticky dough, “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d willingly bake of your own volition.”

Dex shrugs. “I used to think it was... girly, I guess. ‘Till I realised that that wasn’t such a bad thing.” He feels the dough squish beneath his fingers. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but some time over the course of his life at Samwell, he started to feel more comfortable with the idea that he could be as feminine or masculine as he wanted; that those concepts didn’t mean anything, not here. “And the guys in the Haus aren’t exactly the hyper-masculine bros I thought they would be – like, Bitty enjoys baking and Beyoncé, and C owns an entire collection of plush sharks, and you write love poetry and sing loudly in the shower—”

Derek freezes, and his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. “I, uh, didn’t realise anyone could hear me...” he says, meekly.

A laugh bubbles out of Dex. “I mean, you’re not _bad_ ,” he says.

Derek sighs. “Damn these thin walls,” he mutters. He pauses. “You know, I guess you care less about appearances that _I_ do, funnily enough,” he admits. Dex tilts his head, curiously. “Even though I _know_ it’s all bullshit social constructs... I can’t help but want other people to like, not see me as a stereotype, y’know? I wanted to prove that just because I’m _gay_ doesn’t mean that I’m feminine... but I kinda am, sometimes? And I need to be okay with that,” Nursey admits.

Dex hums in agreement, finding nothing to say, and they finish kneading their pie crusts in silence, before leaving them to rest.

\--

“Sometimes...” Derek starts some time later, as he cuts a slice into Will’s finished rhubarb pie. “...you make me feel so dumb.”

Will blinks. That didn’t make sense. Derek was the one that made _him_ feel dumb. Derek’s the one that wins all their arguments. Derek’s the one who has all these cool friends, and can actually _talk_ to people and not have to refresh his deodorant every five seconds. How could Will ever make _Derek_ feel dumb?

“Or, like, incompetent, I dunno...” Derek clarifies. He glances over at the bin, where only a few minutes earlier they’d thrown out his failed, gooey-crusted pie.

Will drapes his arm across Derek’s back and tugs him close. “We’ve all got our strengths. Yours probably isn’t baking.”

“I think this is evidence of that,” Derek snorts, as he plates his slice of Will’s pie. “Bitty’s gonna freak when he sees the pie in the bin.”

“Yup,” Will agrees, letting go of Derek and biting into his own slice, as Derek does the same. He watches as Derek sits lazily on the kitchen table, chewing absently, pie in hand, staring blankly at the wall. He looks kind of like a goat, grazing lazily on a clump of grass, and Will laughs silently to himself at the thought.

“What?” Derek mumbles, turning to look at Will, his mouth still full. It’s somehow both disgusting and endearing.

Will shakes his head, unable to explain. He wonders if Aiden gets to see Derek like this – when he’s not _trying_ for anyone. When he’s not trying to _be_ anyone. When he’s just being himself, open, honest, existing, lost in his thoughts.

They eat together in a comfortable silence, as the sun beams through the kitchen window and casts shadows on their skin.

“This was fun,” Derek murmurs eventually, a lazy smile gracing his expression. “I like this kinda stuff. Making things. So, uh. Thanks.”

Will mirrors his smile. “You’re welcome.”

\--

It’s later that day, when Derek’s gone out to class, that Will picks up his guitar. The weight of it feels familiar in his arms, and he feels himself readjusting to his playing posture as he sits down and plucks a single string. It’s noticeably out of tune, but Will has perfect pitch, so he tunes the guitar with practiced ease. He strums a simple chord, and the guitar’s gentle ringing hits Will with a wave of nostalgia.

He’d forgotten how happy it made him, to make music like this. To feel the strings dig into his fingertips, and leave sore callouses in their wake.

He hums Derek’s tune, and begins to play.

 

* * *

 

  1. Feeling Fine



It’s oddly silent in the Haus, for once. Bitty’s gone up to visit Jack for the weekend, and Ollie and Wicks are out at some party. The washing machine’s finally finished its cycle, the pipes are no longer creaking. It’s just... silent, save for the sound of Nursey’s breathing as he lies in his bunk, scrolling through his phone, and the faint whispering of the wind outside.

Chowder’s the one who seems incapable of _not_ making noise when he’s in the Haus. He’s either got Farmer over, or he’s watching some NHL replays on his laptop without headphones, or he’s doing stretches in his room against his squeaky floorboards. And over time, Dex had gotten used to that noise. It’s almost comforting, in a way, to know that Chowder’s always just a door away when he needs him. So it’s the distinct lack of noise emanating from Chowder’s room which brings Dex to knock on his door.

He gets a dejected hum in response. Worried, Dex pushes into Chowder’s room and finds him sitting cross-legged on his bed, head downcast, his fingers picking absently at his blanket.

“C? You alright?” Dex asks, stopping by the doorframe.

Chowder gives him a brief nod. “I’m fine. I’m alright. I’m just a little...” He trails off.

From behind him, Dex hears a thump as Nursey jumps off his bed and pads out of the room and to Dex’s side. He takes one look at Chowder and his expression sinks. “You don’t look alright,” Nursey says, making his way to the bed. Dex trails after him, unsurely, and soon they’re both sat on the bed next to Chowder.

No one speaks for a while. In Dex’s case, it’s because he’s not sure what to say. He’s not great with this stuff, after all, and he doesn’t even know what the problem _is_. All he knows is that he wants his best friend to feel better. He just wants to fix things. But where can he start?

Dex picks up a shark plushie that’s lying by Chowder’s pillow and holds it out to Chowder. He shimmies it a bit in front of him. The edge of a smile peaks out from Chowder’s lips, and he takes the plushie and holds it in his arms. He looks up at the two of them, finally.

“When Jack gave me this room, he told me—he said I bring a good spirit to the team,” Chowder discloses. “He said... he said I was a hard worker and a team player. I’ll never forget that. I mean, it was one of the best moments of my life, honestly, ‘cos I’d looked up to Jack for so long. But... sometimes I feel like I’m letting him down.”

“You’re not,” Derek concludes, firmly, shaking his head. “We can call him and ask him right now, but I’m telling you, you’re not.” Dex nods in agreement.

“That’s not the point,” Chowder sighs. “I just... I don’t know.”

“Is this about the game the other day?” Dex asks. Chowder shrugs.

“You did everything you could, C,” Nursey says.

Chowder shakes his head. “I let two in during the last period. It cost us the game.”

“And we both let those two get to you in the first place. It’s not your fault,” Dex reasons.

“It’s not just about the game,” Chowder admits. “It’s... it’s everything. Hockey. School. My family. It’s everything.” They let Chowder’s words hang in the air. “I can’t play hockey, and I can’t get good grades, and I can’t please my parents, and I can’t help Farmer with what she’s going through, and—and... I don’t know” Chowder babbles.

Dex looks helplessly at Nursey, who returns an equally helpless expression. What should he do? What should he say? Why was he so bad at this?

“Zombies!” Nursey erupts, suddenly.

“What? Where?” Chowder startles, spinning around in panic.

“No, I mean. I, uh.” Nursey clears his throat. “We were talking, the other day, about who we would choose to fight with us in a zombie apocalypse. And Dex said he’d be willing to put up with me if it meant keeping you around...” Nursey glances at Dex for support. “Because... well, because—”

“Because you’re awesome,” Dex finishes, lamely. “You have, like, killer reflexes. You’re the speediest goalie I’ve ever seen.” Dex flails as he tries to find more things to say. “And have you _met_ Nursey? He’d be the _worst_ in a zombie apocalypse, and I’d be willing to keep him on our end-of-the-world team just so that you’d be happy.”

“Hey,” Nursey pouts. “I wouldn’t be the _worst_.”

“We talked about this already, Derek. You’re zombie bait at best,” Dex retorts.

“Excuse me? I’m a hockey player, I can at least hit them with a stick,” Nursey scoffs, indignant.

“Yeah, if you don’t trip every five seconds,” Dex replies.

An amused smile stretches slowly across Chowder’s face as he glances between the two of them. “You guys are really bad at this whole comforting thing,” he says.

“Oh my god, we know,” Nursey groans, collapsing onto the bed.

Dex shrugs, meekly. “Got you to smile, didn’t it?”

“What we were _trying_ to say before we got distracted is... we think you’re pretty cool, alright?” Nursey admits. “We look up to you, dude. You’re smart. You’re hilarious. You brighten people’s day just by _existing_. And—”

“And you’re our best friend,” Dex finishes. “We wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Chowder rolls his eyes, a smile still on his lips. “Alright, alright. You win: I’m awesome.”

Nursey and Dex share a relieved smile. “Knew you’d come around and see the truth,” Nursey says, catching Chowder in a headlock. Dex watches fondly as the two of them roll around on the bed, Chowder wiggling around to try and escape, squeaking protests as they fumble about.

He knows this isn’t the end of Chowder’s problems. He knows that they didn’t really _solve_ anything. But maybe they’d helped make his night just a little bit brighter.

Amidst Chowder’s hiccupping laughter, as he and Nursey scramble on the bed, Nursey meets Dex’s eye. He grins. Dex grins back. It feels like something more.

 

* * *

 

  1. Starry Sky



It’s when Dex parks the car by the base of the hill, coming to a shuddering stop, that he processes the fact that he’s actually _here_. That he’d asked Nursey to go for a drive with him, at some god-forsaken time of night, wholly prepared to have to argue his case for why they should go – it’s still warm out, C’s at Farmer’s, there’s nothing to do in the Haus anyway – and Nursey had just said... “Sure.” And they’d hopped in his car like it was nothing, like this was a _normal_ thing that they did, and they’d driven in a companionable silence, Nursey with one arm out the window, watching the trees fly by, Dex with his hands gripped on the wheel, trying not to freak out. But now they’re _here_ , and Dex is _not ready_.

“I thought we were going for a drive?” Nursey says, glancing at Dex, who sits quietly with his hands still gripped on the wheel. He hadn’t expected to get this far. He hadn’t realised that he’d have to do it _tonight._ After tonight, it’d all be out in the open. After tonight...

“C’mon,” Dex says, hopping out of the car, “there’s a really good view up on the hill.”

Nursey hesitantly opens the door, stepping out into the fresh, forest air. Stretching, he steps out onto the grass. “You go on up first,” Dex says, “I just gotta take care of something.”

Nursey regards him curiously. “Alright,” he says, turning around to walk up between the trees and up the hill.

When Nursey’s sufficiently out of sight, Dex lets his head fall onto the window, letting out a guttural groan. After tonight, everything would be different. For better or for worse, he doesn’t know. For a second, he rethinks everything. He begins to consider that this could be the most humiliating decision of his life. But if he doesn’t try... if he doesn’t try, this could be the biggest regret of his life, too.

Shaking himself out of his nerves, he opens the back-seat door and slides his guitar case out from its position, hidden carefully under a blanket. He unlatches the guitar case and tenderly lifts his guitar into his arms. This is it. Shutting the car door, Dex slowly makes his way up the hill.

He finds Nursey sitting cross-legged on the top of the hill, his hands pressed gently on the grass behind him, gazing wondrously at the night sky above him. Stars dot the night sky like drips on a canvas that stretches infinitely into the distance. Below them, blocks of houses, illuminated by streetlights. Dex spots Samwell – the faint outline of a familiar rink, and the Haus, just a blob, hidden behind a row of buildings. Beside them, a field of scattered trees, continuing deep into the forest.

Will shuffles up to Derek, sitting down beside him, guitar in his lap. Derek doesn’t notice the guitar, too engrossed by the twinkling starlight.

“You never really realise how pretty the stars are until you go outside and see it for yourself,” Derek mumbles, awed.

Will hums in agreement, as the moon casts a pale glow on the two of them. Will breathes in. He breathes out. Then thumbs at his guitar, casually, like he hadn’t been practicing for the past week just for this exact moment. As the sound rings from his guitar, Nursey turns in surprise, but keeps silent, watching as Dex plays. The notes, one by one, shape a tune, that resonates against the grass and spills into the night sky.

“Remember that song you sang, the one about... love?” Dex asks, still plucking at his guitar. He’s on the same three chords now, repeating them in sequence.

Nursey blinks at him, wide-eyed. “You mean, um, the one that starts with ‘I don’t know how to love?”” he asks.

“Yeah, that one. I uh—” Dex bites his lip. “I don’t know if you had any chords in mind, or if you’d written anything to go with it—”

“No,” Nursey interrupts, his voice breathy in shock. “No, I just made up the... the melody...”

Will sighs in relief. “Good.” He gives Derek an encouraging smile. “Then why don’t you sing it with me?”

Nursey nods, waits for the first chord to come back around, and starts to sing.

 

> _I don’t know how to love,_
> 
> _Cast my heart out to sea,_
> 
> _But there’s nobody manning the sails, will you_
> 
> _Please, will you please, will you steer the ship for me._
> 
> _Call it whatever you want,_
> 
> _My song, my verse, my story, all of,_
> 
> _Teach me what is it to be in love,_
> 
> _Call it whatever you want._

 

It’s here that Will comes in, harmonising with Derek’s voice. He’s a little shaky, from the nerves, but their voices, together, feels raw.

It’s just the two of them, and Will’s guitar. Alone on a hill with no one to hear but themselves and the empty night.

 

> _How can I stay afloat,_
> 
> _When I never learned how to swim?_
> 
> _I’m dreaming, dragging, drifting like a sailboat,_
> 
> _Free me from this sea I’m drowning in._
> 
> _Call it whatever you want,_
> 
> _My life, my love, my laughter, all of,_
> 
> _Teach me what is it to see the sun,_
> 
> _Show me how it is to love._

Will plucks out the last bar of the song, slowing down to the end, and the memory of their voices echoes out into the forest. Down in the suburbs, they watch as lights begin to flicker out in windows, as midnight draws near.

They don’t speak for a while, content to just sit, feel the air on their skin, and watch the stars in the sky. Eventually, Derek speaks.

“What is this?” Derek whispers, tentatively.

“What is what?” Will replies.

“ _This_ ,” Derek says. “What is—what are we doing?”

Will swallows. He could spill it all now; how he wakes up in the morning to hear Derek sing, how he hangs around him to hear him laugh, how he goes to sleep to kiss him in his dreams. But instead he says, like an idiot, “What do you think we’re doing?”

Derek leans closer. “I mean, I have an idea, but... I just want to know what _you_ think it is... that we’re doing...” Derek trails.

“Well—yeah, it’s, uh—it’s probably exactly what you’re thinking, so—” Will replies, his cheeks steadily glowing an embarrassed pink. He wipes the sweat from the palms of his hands onto his jeans.

“How do I know if it is unless you tell me?” Derek sighs. He’s turned completely to face Will, his eyes deadly serious.

“It’s exactly what you think it is, alright,” Will groans. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Yeah but if I say what _I_ think this is and I’m wrong...” Derek argues. He’s close, now. So close that Will can feel each breath Derek takes tickle his nose. “So will you please just tell me—”

“I’m—I’m trying to seduce you, alright?” Will heaves, his entire face, from the neck to his ears, now entirely red.

The moment that hangs between them feels like glass. It stretches out in silence, nothing but the wind sweeping across the hill, and Will’s own nervous breaths.

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” Derek scoffs, finally.

“It... it did?” Will breathes. Derek chuckles, and looks down at his fingers.

“Look, Will... a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have even considered... I didn’t see you like that, and if you hadn’t done anything I don’t think I ever would’ve seen you like that. But, well...” Derek pauses, bringing his right hand to Will’s left, gently lacing their fingers together. Will inhales, sharply. Derek studies their entangled fingers, turning them over between them. “Somewhere in between our conversation after the movie the other week and when we comforted Chowder the other day, I—I just...” He shakes his head.

They sit, caught in between Derek’s words.

“Aiden wrote me a song, did you know that?” he confesses.

“Oh.”

“It was a pretty incredible song,” Derek continues. “He sang about how good we’d be together, and how much he liked me, and it was sweet and cute and romantic and everything I wanted, but...” He looks up, now, gazing deep into Will’s eyes. “You wrote me _my_ song. And that’s more of a gift than anyone’s ever given to me.”

A tentative smile creeps onto Will’s lips. He shrugs. “You like making things.”

A fond smile spreads across Derek’s face in reply. “Yeah, I do,” he says. He wets his lips, and Will’s eyes dart down to track the movement.

As Will sits, unable to move, still comprehending everything that had happened, Derek lifts the guitar off his lap and lays it gently on the ground. He brackets Will, his hands coming down on either side of him, threading through the blades of grass, and leans forward.

He captures Will in a kiss.

Derek’s lips feel soft against his own, sweet to the taste. Will feels Derek’s warm weight press into him, shivers as their noses brush against each other, breathes into him, and breathes him in. Soon, he feels Derek’s lips stretch into a giddy smile. They pull apart, only to be drawn back in, as Derek lays his forehead against Will’s.

“You know what else I like making?” Derek asks, breathlessly.

“What?” Will responds.

Derek smirks. “Making love,” he drawls, winking.

Will snorts, doubling over onto Derek’s shoulder. He breaks out into shaking laughter, Derek quickly following, and soon they’re laid on the grass together, rolling around gleefully, limbs entangled.

Their laughter carries into the open night.

 

* * *

 

  1. Double Date



The air in Annie’s is warm and familiar, blanketing Will as he takes a sip of his coffee. He nestles the cup in his hand as he gazes out the window, watching as busy college students hurry to class. Across from him, Derek sits, perusing the menu.

“I can’t believe the menu’s still exactly the same," he chuckles, flipping it over in his hand.

“And you ordered the exact same thing you always got,” Will teases, a smirk on his lips, “from when we’d have our coffee dates here.”

“I wouldn’t call those _dates_ , William,” Derek replies, rolling his eyes fondly, “we just argued the whole time about the news.” He brandishes the menu in his hand and aims it at William. “And you ordered the same thing you always ordered too, so don’t try and take the high ground here.”

Will grins, sinking back into the booth with a sigh. The scent of freshly brewed coffee, maple syrup, air freshener, and some other distinctly _Annie’s_ smell that he can’t quite place, brings him back to his college days, only six years ago from now, but still so distant. From the absent expression in Derek’s eyes, he can tell that Derek’s being brought back too.

Not everything’s the same, though. The seat covers were replaced – once a bright, plastic red, now a faded blue. The scratch marks on the booths have been polished away, and the coffee is _significantly_ better than the often too bitter or too milky concoction they’d consumed at Annie’s during their time at Samwell. Yet, despite the differences, it still feels like a second home.

“Derek?” A voice calls from behind Will, and, turning around, he spots a tall, skinny, dark-haired man and a shorter, blonde woman approach their table.

Derek tilts his head. “Aiden?”

The man breaks into a smile. “It _is_ you! Man, I haven’t seen you in _forever_.”

“Same here, dude,” Derek grins. “And this is?”

“Sabrina,” the blonde woman says, with a devious grin on her face. “I’m this guy’s girlfriend. So _this_ is the Derek that I’ve heard so much about.”

Aiden’s cheeks colour a light pink as he scratches his chin. “All good things, I swear. Mostly embarrassing for me, though,” he laughs. “And you’re...” he starts, looking at Will now.

“William,” he finishes, giving them a little wave. “Derek’s... uh... fiancé, I guess, now.” He bites his lip, adjusting the ring on his finger.

The whole reason they were _here_ at Samwell was because of the proposal that had happened just two weeks earlier, funnily enough. They’d already agreed that they wanted to get married, so when Derek suggested they stay in Boston for a while, then started to drive him up to the hill where they’d gotten together in the first place, well... Will knew what was going to happen. And when they’d gotten to the top, well past midnight, the stars twinkling brightly in the night sky, Derek had asked, “Will you marry me?”, and Will had responded, “Only if _you’ll_ marry _me_ ,” and Derek had replied with “That’s kind of how marriage works, Will,” and Will had flicked him in the ear. And Derek had brought out Will’s guitar, from where it’d been hidden in the back seat of their car, and they’d played and sang together until the sun came up.

Aiden breaks into a grin. “Oh wow, congratulations! You guys are like, college sweethearts then, eh? Derek told me a lot about you when we were hanging out. You were like, all he talked about for a while.”

Will smirks at Derek, who groans into his coffee cup. “I was a lovesick adolescent, alright? Kinda still am, to be honest.” Sabrina glances between the three of them, mentally cataloguing all the chirping material she could get against her boyfriend.

“How come we’ve never met before?” Will asks, turning back to Aiden. It seemed curious that after Will and Derek had gotten together, he’d not heard about Aiden... at all. At the time he hadn’t really thought much about it, but now it didn’t seem to make much sense.

Aiden scrunches up his nose, and his cheeks turn an alarming shade of red. “Well that’d be because I _may_ have been so mortified after Derek rejected me that I kind of... started avoiding him?”

“Aw, honey,” Sabrina laughs, giving him a hug from behind.

“I never really thought about it before, but... didn’t you say Aiden wrote you a song?” Will asks Derek. “So he played you this song he wrote and then you just rejected him?” Will teases. “That’s cold, dude. Stone cold.”

Derek scratches at his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that, Aiden...”

Aiden waves him off. “Not your fault that I was an emotionally stunted teenager,” he laughs. “It’s all water under the bridge now. Besides, I should be thanking you both, since without you I wouldn’t have met Sabs.” He smiles down at Sabrina, who rolls her eyes affectionately.

“We should double date sometime,” Sabrina offers, “so that you guys can catch up, and I can learn all of Aiden’s embarrassing secrets.”

“Yeah, that’d be awesome,” Derek agrees.

Derek and Will wave to them as they leave, the door chiming upon their exit.

Will raises an eyebrow, a barrage of questions already on his lips, but he’s interrupted by the waitress arriving with their food, carefully placing a steaming stack of pancakes in front of Derek, and an English breakfast in front of Will. He’s immediately hit with a memory of the two of them, in this exact scenario with the same plates of food in front of them, caught in a rare moment of silence where both are too busy eating to argue. Now he finds himself not wanting to eat just so he can talk to Derek more. He gazes at Derek, wistfully, as he digs into his pancakes.

“What’s that look for, _fiancé_?” Derek asks, teasingly.

Will shakes his head. “Nothing, _fiancé_ ,” he scoffs, smiling. “Let’s just eat.”

After all, they had all the time in the world to talk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my [tumblr](day-tripped.tumblr.com), if you want.


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